Painted Black
by TinyDancer14
Summary: I look inside myself and see my heart is black.


Painted Black

Pink is out. Black is in.

Glitz and glamour, sparkles and sequins- gone. The pink vinyl I forced East High maintenance facilities to attach to my locker? Stripped off menacingly by my no longer manicured fingers, all the while through I stared at the empty locked beside mine. My bright, complimentary colors- the pinks, golds, reds, purples, turquoises- all of my signature colors were now banned from my wardrobe and ultimately, my life. Color was such an overrated thing. Not needed in the darkness of depression. Not needed when your life no longer has meaning.

No more colors. Only black.

I sit now, atop my chaise which had been disrobed of its pink color into a deathly shade of black, clad in a jet black bikini that contrasts my pale white skin, my deep shades perched on my head, ready to fall at any second to shield myself from the world. The chair next to mine is empty. As it always was nowadays. Nobody knew the pain I was going through now. It wasn't totally obvious, however it wasn't too difficult to figure out. He was gone. And now my life was not worth living.

Gabriella, Kelsi and Taylor walk by in their crop tops and Bermuda shorts, glancing in my direction then quickly looking away. They don't care. They try to pretend and act like they want to help, but really they're just hypocritical. Kelsi's finally made friends just by being nice. Taylor's one of the smartest people around, and she's so practical. Gabriella's got Troy. She'll always have Troy. I turn my head, forcing the darkness of envy and depression away. Just looking at them burns my retinas. The bright oranges and lemony yellows, the lime greens and hot magentas- why so much color? Why not black?

Why is this happening to me?

It wasn't always like this, and I know everyone is wondering why it's going on now. I was Sharpay Evans, the girl everyone feared, the girl everyone envied, the girl everyone wanted to be like. I don't know why I made this transition, but I'm not going to do anything to try and stop it. I couldn't stop it even if I tried. It's like a sheet of darkness that's washed over me. My glitzy glamorous days of pink luxury are over. Black is beautiful. Black is depressing. Black is the absence of color.

Black is my everything.

Why, you ask? Why am I so depressed so suddenly? My summer had gone great. Despite losing the StarDazzle award and my chances with Troy Bolton, I'd made friends, learned a thing or two and even snuck Éclairs from Zeke in the kitchen- he never kept them hidden from me, and I actually think this was purposeful. Anyway, you'd think this would make me so happy, so content with my 'near perfect' life. But it's far from perfect. Very, very far from it.

My parents are loving and giving, and will drop their doings in an instant to get anything Ryan or I ever needed. So they aren't the problem. The truth? It was Ryan himself. He's my twin brother; only younger by six and a half minutes. I used to boss and push him around- always telling him what to do, always giving him the smaller role when we won leads, always being protective of him and never letting him experience anything on his own.

And you know what? I pushed him _too far_.

I didn't know any of the past occurrences would've turned out the way they did. I hadn't known they way I treated him bothered him as much as it did. Why couldn't I see that? Zeke says underneath all of that makeup and glitter, it's hard to see anything. I don't know, I guess he has a point. That's why I resulted to black. That's why my depression masks anything I'm feeling and keeps me painfully aware of everything that's going on in my life.

But in the long run, it won't bring him back.

He'd always been there for me. Through the good times he'd cheer for me, through the bad times he'd comfort me, through the frightening times he'd be there just to hold my hand. He was my brother, my twin, my other half... my very best friend. And even though I treated him like he was below me, I loved him to death. Not in the sick incest way, but as my equal, the male version of me. People thought I hated him and that's why I made him dress the way he did, or act like me... but that's not true. I loved Ryan. I still love Ryan.

But loving Ryan won't compensate for what has happened.

Truthfully, he was the only one who really cared about me. I mean, obviously my parents loved me, but I really didn't have any friends. I had followers- Jackie, Emma, and Leah who think that I'm the star, the queen of the school. I don't _want_ to be the queen. Not anymore. I just want my brother back. Because living without him is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. He was the only one who truly understood me, and I know he resented me at times, probably more often than not. I don't know if he ever knew just how much I cared about him.

And now there's no way to tell him.

I watch as three workers from Lava Springs struggle and strain to paint my convertible black. I couldn't have the bright pink anymore. Because pink meant happiness. And happiness reminded me of Ryan. Maybe because I'm changing everything to a deep ebony color I won't have to face the fact that my brother's gone. Like once stated in an old Rolling Stone's song, '_It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black_'. I never knew these lyrics would pertain to me.

My father and Mr. Fulton had been shocked when I came to them with a request for that new car color. It had taken a certain kind of paint and a special order to a company in Germany, but they eventually pulled off the baby pink hue. I didn't want it anymore. They asked me why, and I told them pink was no longer my style. Mr. Fulton laughed, but I didn't find this humorous. After finding I wasn't joking, he asked me what color to paint the car. I can still here the cold bitter tone of my voice when I answered him.

"Paint it black."

Ryan had come home one evening two weeks earlier after a night of playing baseball. He said something earlier to me about it, something about wanting to show Troy just how well he could play. I didn't see anything wrong with this, but he kept trying to convince me that this wouldn't replace theater, and that he'd always be by my side. I told him to just go, to go play his games and leave me alone to my nail-painting and soap-watching. He did, thankfully, and wasn't forced to wallow with me.

But then I thought of something.

He had had such a crush on Gabriella Montez ever since we watched her in the winter musical the past year. I remember glancing at him to find him captivated by her performance, watching her every move with gleaming eyes, grinning at her beautiful singing voice, and laughing at the corny lines she'd been forced to learn. I'd rolled my eyes then, and told him that she was with Troy and was totally off-limits. He hadn't listened, just stood and clapped for Gabriella at the termination of her song.

"Why are so wrapped up in Gabriella Montez?" I'd asked him in disgust as we left the school that night.

"For the same reason you're in love with Troy," He'd responded, a grin still on his face. "It's kind of a thrill, huh? Wanting something you can't have?"

And his voice did not have one ounce of sadness. Because unlike me, Ryan was perfectly capable of just liking Gabriella from afar and not doing anything about it. He didn't have to go out with her to have his needs met. She was with Troy, and he understood that. He got his happiness by being friends with her, and of course, from the hug he'd gotten when he presented her with a rose at the end of the show.

Not me. I _needed_ to have Troy to be satisfied.

"I don't get how you can do this," I remember telling him that evening he got home. "How could you have gone to this baseball game and watched Gabriella cheer Troy on? Didn't that bother you?"

He just shrugged. "Not really. It's okay. Actually I'm... kind of over Gabriella."

My eyes had gone wide. "Are you kidding?"

Shaking his head, he replied, "No, Shar. It's not a big deal. I mean, sure, at first it's disappointing that the one you want is already taken, but then you get over it. I'm sorry you can't do that."

I remember being so pissed off at him for saying that to me. That's when our screaming fight began and I proved to him that I _was_ over Troy. I really had been, whether he believed it or not. We yelled back and forth; I was telling him how to live his life again and he was screaming for me to stop controlling him. As thunder began to rumble from the skies above us and rain pelted against the roof in pummeling drops, Ryan grabbed his rain jacket from the coat closet by the front door, his face red and contorted with anger as he yanked the door open.

My voice had been sore from screaming, but I couldn't let it go. "Where the hell are you going?"

Ryan whipped his head around to face me again, speaking the last words he ever said to me. "Anywhere away from you."

And that's how it ended between us. Twenty minutes later, Ryan was dead.

After he'd slammed the door in my face I was still ranting and raving as I stormed around the room, knocking things over as I felt like it and smashing things to the ground. But the way it ended between us? I wish it hadn't. Knowing my twin brother died while he was mad at me and vice versa is the worst feeling in the world. It's this black, empty feeling that makes you think you weren't loved, and sometimes I question it. Did Ryan love me like I loved him? Or was he so pressured by me that he had to find a way out?

He didn't commit suicide, if that's what you were thinking. No, he was a victim of vehicular manslaughter, and it was the worst call I've ever gotten. Mom was teaching a yoga class and dad was still at the club, so I'd answered the phone, completely unaware of how this lone call was going to change my life forever. It was our neighbor from down the street, Mrs. Mitchell, and she was in hysterical tears. When I'd asked what was wrong, she told me to come quick to Oak Bridge Lane, my brother was dying.

Not even thinking about the rain, I rushed down the street, not even believing what she'd said. Ryan Evans dying? No way. I had just talked to him moments earlier. We were screaming at each other just minutes before. But as I approached the street, the sirens were apparent. A completely totaled car was compressed against an oak tree and the crowd gathered around the police cars surrounding the scene. I pushed my way through and found my brother instantly, lying beside the wrecked car in a heap. Ignoring the shouts and commands from the officers I threw myself upon him, his blood soaking through my shirt.

"Ryan no," I sobbed into his chest, wanting to take our previous conversation back. "You can't die, Ryan. You can't die."

But the faint heartbeat beneath my head was only getting weaker as I struggled to keep him alive. "Please no. God, I'm sorry Ryan. I'm so sorry. Please don't die. Please don't leave me."

And then he looked at me, his usually bright green eyes a much paler color as he looked at me and through me at the same time. I hiccupped, waiting for some kind of response from him and knowing all the while I wasn't going to get one. This was it. This was going to be the bitter end and I couldn't change that. His head dropped to the pavement. His breathing discontinued and the hand I was gripping for dear life went limp.

My brother had died, right there in my arms.

I still to this day haven't gotten over it and maybe I never will. The driver of the car that hit Ryan hadn't survived the impact either, so I'll never get to inflict as much pain and suffering that I'm going through upon anyone else. My parents are still grieving, but taking it much better than I'd ever think they would. They don't understand my change of personality and clothing choices. But nobody really understands. I'm not even sure of myself sometimes. All I know is that black is symbol of death and depression in my eyes.

And I've certainly sunk into a deep pit of darkness.

All these bright colors that surround me now, light blue, hot pink, electric lime, highlighter yellow, they symbolize life and vibrance. But ever since I lost my only friend, I don't think color is all it's cracked up to be. Who needs color when you can have the negation? I'll fade into the darkness while Zeke continues to bake, Troy continues to love Gabriella, and Taylor continues to succeed at everything she does. I won't ever love. Who needs love? I can't love anyone anymore with a heart this broken.

Because my heart, like my life, had been painted black.

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**Kay hi. :) Sorry my disclaimer is at the bottom but you know I don't own anything. This was just a one-shot to clear my head. I thought of it after finishing the Math regents today and just had to write it. I know it's really depressing, but... well, sorry. Anyway, I used a song for inspiration, like I always do, and it's called (what else?) "Paint It Black." The original song is by the Rolling Stones, but I'm really loving the cover by Vanessa Carlton. Listen to it, it's good.**

** Please review now!! **


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